


Napping with Moomins

by Outsider_Lookin_In



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Absolute cat bastards, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Forgiving Wives, Hiking, Lazy cat dad, M/M, Moominmama is too good for this world, Mumriks, Napping, every one of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outsider_Lookin_In/pseuds/Outsider_Lookin_In
Summary: Snufkin and The Joxter my have their differences, but they both agree on one thing. Moomins make the best beds. Literally.
Relationships: Joxaren | The Joxter & Muminpappan | Moominpappa, Joxaren | The Joxter & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Muminmamman | Moominmamma/Muminpappan | Moominpappa, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 234





	Napping with Moomins

**Author's Note:**

> This little story wouldn't leave me alone last night so here it is. I love the idea of Moominpapa taking one look at Snufkin and just thinking "oh my dear Son, you have no idea what you have brought upon yourself". Moomin will find out eventually.

Joxter staggered. Up ahead a blur of green swam across his vision and he blinked, trying to clear his eyes, focus, but it was no use. He could go no further. Folding slowly to the earth, sinking to his hands and knees, he said a silent prayer that the gods would be kind to him, before sinking into the warm darkness.

At the edge of the cliff Snufkin turned, hat gripped tightly to his head to stop it flying away in the Summer breeze, face upturned to the warm sunshine and a smile playing across his lips as he looked back. 

The smile faded, replaced with a frown of confusion as he scanned the path, searching for the familiar lanky figure of his father. Then he saw it. The lump of red and black and green, lying in the middle of the path, snoring.

Snufkin sighed, rolling his eyes and stomping back down the path. He toed the lump with one boot. It grumbled. 

“You can’t sleep here.”

“You underestimate me at your peril.”

“Joxter, we are halfway up a  _ mountain. _ You are lying in the  _ dirt _ . Get up.”

Joxter groaned, rolling over and peering up at Snufkin pathetically, eyes squinting against the bright midday sunshine.

“Just a quick nap? We’ve been walking for hours. Days. I’m exhausted.”

“You’ve been walking for two hours.”

“Feels like longer. Five minutes? Maybe ten.”

Snufkin dropped his pack and sat down on a rock, pulling pipe and pouch from his pocket and packing it with practiced ease. Recognising a win when he saw one Joxter beamed, rolling back onto his stomach and curling up comfortably in the sunshine. Clouds scudded overhead, eager to see the world beyond the valley, and Snufkin watched them fondly. They were in for a treat. He would know.

It was funny really, how easily they had all slipped into this new routine, like feet settling into a well-worn pair of boots. After a slightly shaky start, with both Snufkin and Joxter edging around their new roles, unsure of the pitfalls and triplines, they had eventually sucked up enough courage to take the plunge and found surprisingly solid middle ground between them.

There were differences of course. Joxter was more of a people person, surrounding himself with light and music and chatter while Snufkin would slip out the door to enjoy the nighttime in peace and quiet by his tent. 

They also had some disagreements on hunting versus fishing, with Joxter arguing that a snare was just so much easier and so much less effort and Snufkin steadfastly pointing out that it was too cruel to contemplate. They had agreed to disagree in the end, though Moomin had spotted Joxter poring over one of Moominpapa’s angling books one evening, when he thought no-one was around.

But they bonded over their loathing of authority. Their excursions to the park were a source of much entertainment to the Moomin family, and much chagrin for the park keepers, who were tormented by shadows in the night, tearing down their signs, leaving footprints on the grass and, on one notable occasion, filling the rosegarden with terrible flowering weeds. They cursed the intruders for weeks as they set about pulling up the buttercups and daisies that had invaded their neatly organized roses.

And while Joxter certainly slept more than Snufkin, and indeed was considerably less fussy over his choice of mattress, they would both agree that the very best place to sleep was on top of a Moomin.

Snufkin woke slowly and smiled a lazy smile. Beneath him he felt Moomin shift, a contraction of muscles, a soft dip as he sighed. Digging his fingers into the thick white fur Snufkin arched his back, spine popping as he stretched out before slumping back down again. 

Moomin chuckled, the motion bouncing Snufkins head a little, and brought his arms up around Snufkins back, paws interlacing and pinning him close. 

Snufkin didn’t fight it, letting himself be pulled against that firm chest, burying his face in Moomins’ fur and breathing in deeply.

Morning sunlight streamed through the little window, warming the bedroom and tempting them with promises of Summer adventures. Lazy brown eyes met sleepy blue and the pair smiled, pulling the blankets back up around them and settling in for a lie-in. No Summer adventure was better than this.

Downstairs a very different scene was playing out.

“Get. Off.”

“M’min, shhhh, sleeeeeeping.”

“Not on my bed you’re not, you pest of a creature. We have a perfectly good guest bedroom. Make use of it.”

“‘S’not the same,” the Joxter whined, burying his head under his arm as he flattened himself against the mattress, resisting all Moominpapa’s efforts to shunt him off the bed. 

From the next bed over Moominpapa heard a quiet giggle. He looked at his wife in betrayal. 

“Mama,” he pleaded. “Help me.”

“But dearest, what can I possibly do? He’s our guest. We must make him comfortable.”

Moominmpapa scowled at the impish glint in his wife’s eyes. She knew full well what she was about. Beside him Joxter grinned. 

“What a delightful creature you are, Moominmama,” he crooned. “Such a good host, unlike your brute of a husband. My poor weary bones. All I want is to sleep in comfort after such a long time on the road. Rest my aching limbs. It’s not too much to ask is it? A little comfort for an old friend?”

Moominpapa groaned, smacking Joxter on the head.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve travelled with you before. You hardly go five miles without a nap. And, as I have already pointed out, we have provided you with a perfectly good bedroom and bed. So why must you insist on sleeping in  _ mine? _ ”

“Because you’re in it, of course.”

Moominpapa was silent, taken aback by the frank response. Before he could regain his composure Joxter, sensing his advantage, had pushed him back down onto the bed and clambered onto him, draping himself across Moominpapa’s chest like a scratchy, slightly smelly, rather boney blanket. Moominpapa let his head fall back onto the pillow in defeat.

It was no use. There was no winning when it came to Joxter. Either you let him have his way, and learned to live with the inconvenience, or you put your foot down and had to find some way to live with the guilt as he turned his heart-broken gaze loose upon you. Closing his eyes, Moominpapa said a silent prayer for his son, who would no doubt discover this for himself the first time he tried to turf young Snufkin out for the night.

“I’ll put some breakfast on, shall I?”

“Yes, thank you Mama. I will be down… in a while.”

“Of course, dear. Enjoy your lie-in.”

Moominpapa grumbled, ignoring his wife’s laughter as she headed downstairs to the kitchen. The Joxter shifted and his paw came up, reflexively combing through tangled black hair. The man on his chest settled, face turning sideways to press his nose deep into Moominpapa’s fur and a loud rumbling purr rattling his skinny frame. 

A smile tugged on his lips, pulling at him like the tide, and he relented, unable to resist. Closing his eyes he let the familiar warmth soothe him back to sleep.


End file.
